


Is That My Shirt?

by Glass_Oceans



Series: The Ficlet Collection [126]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 01:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glass_Oceans/pseuds/Glass_Oceans
Summary: “I won’t let u” + “Is that my shirt?”





	Is That My Shirt?

**Author's Note:**

> Content notes: Silent treatment, Kylo you little shit

The couch bounced with Kylo’s landing, Hux holding his laptop up to protect it while Millicent scarpered in terror. Kylo settled down, his phone cradled in his hands while Hux set his laptop back down. 

“Are you still mad at me?” Hux asked, glancing over at Kylo. 

Kylo’s fingers flew over his phone and a moment later Hux’s own phone beeped as it’s messaging app popped up. 

[ _I’m nt tlking to u_ ]

Hux sighed. “That’s a no then so,” he muttered. 

He tried to return to preparing his reports for the presentation, but Kylo had a way of typing on his phone that seemed to make the cushions shake with its intensity. Hux’s message app popped up again.

[ _Ur fault_ ]

“I know it is,” Hux replied. “And I’ll make it up to you. But I can’t get out of doing this.”

[ _Could call in sick. Or said no_ ]

“You know what wasn’t an option. I have to go”

[ _I won’t let u_ ]

“Do tell,” Hux said dryly as he closed the message and continued typing. “Are you going to physically restrain me?”

From the corner of his eye, Hux could see Kylo look up from his phone and glare at him. For all Kylo’s greater mass, Hux could still win about half the time if it came to a wrestling match. Kylo would complain about his use of dirty tactics. Hux would laugh and call him a sore loser. 

Kylo got up from the couch with only slightly less disruption than when he’d landed in his seat, and stomped out of the living room. Hux continued typing, grinding his teeth in frustration when his attempt to adjust a single image threw out the formatting for several slides. So when Kylo re-appeared and stood in front of him, it took him a moment to look up. 

“Kylo,” he said, mouth suddenly dry, “is that my shirt?”

Kylo simply nodded, eyes wide and maniacal. Hux’s shirt was already straining over Kylo’s broader shoulders, even with the stiff pose Kylo had adopted that allowed him to put it on in the first place. 

Hux carefully placed the laptop to one side and shuffled forward on the couch cushion, holding up his hands. 

“That’s the only clean dress shirt I have Kylo,” he said. 

“I know,” Kylo replied. And flexed.


End file.
